


baby it's sick

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Bondage, Breathplay, Canon Divergence, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dante Lives, Emotional Manipulation, Harrisco Are A Mess, Humiliation, M/M, No Flashpoint Happens, Past Eobard/Cisco, Season 2, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:25:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Cisco uses Harry to get over Eobard. It works about as well as can be expected.





	baby it's sick

**Author's Note:**

> please note all tags and pairings. this includes past eobard/cisco, cisco using harry, harry being fully aware he's being used and falling in love anyway because he's stupid, and both cisco and harry not being very nice to each other. no flashpoint occurs in this canon divergence.

Cisco is curved over his workshop table, pretending to fiddle with Harry’s pulse gun while Harry glares heat into his skin. Not that Harry knows, probably, that Cisco knows Harry is staring; that even without looking, Cisco can see his frustrated hunger.

Cisco is intimately familiar with the way Harrison Wells eyes crinkle when he’s trying not to want.

Harry’s mouth is a thin, grim line when Cisco turns to him. Eobard never looked quite as watered down or weary. But Harry’s mouth is as pink as Eobard’s had been and as fucked up as Cisco knows it is, he wants to test the warmth. Find out if Harry tastes like Eobard did.

“You done?” Harry grits.

Cisco brushes his hair behind his ears, both because its fallen in the way and to see if Harry’s gaze will pierce the revealed skin of his neck. Harry narrows his eyes and follows Cisco’s movements, sharp as a predator.  

But Cisco doesn’t quite feel like prey.

“Your gun is pretty impressive,” Cisco says, not bothering to hide his interest in the full range of heat Harry’s packing.

Harry’s been trying to keep his lust subtle, but the man doesn’t have Eobard’s flair for hiding in plain sight; everything he wants from Cisco keeps bubbling over, intensifying the tension between them until Cisco’s chest feels too tight and too hot.

“You got any other equipment you want me to check out?”

It’s practically vulgar, how desperate Cisco is to just push his throat over the knife edge, but he’s exhausted. His head is always aching with echoes of vibes and he can’t remember the last time he slept more than four hours and he still feels like his chest cavity is broken open around Eobard’s hand. He can’t even talk to Caitlin or Barry about it - they’re nursing their own wounds.

Cisco knows Harry isn’t going to heal him. He’s not after comfort.

Glaring, Harry moves to him with ground devouring strides. Cisco is barely more than an ache when Harry steps into his space, thighs almost brushing. He needs Harry to touch him or he’ll shake right out of his skin. It’s been so long since he had Wells hands on him.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

But Harry’s voice is low and there’s color on his cheeks. When he reaches past Cisco to retrieve his gun, Cisco tilts his body sideways and puts his hand over Harry’s wrist. Harry freezes.

“What are you doing?”

The floor tilts under Cisco’s feet but he holds steady under sudden nerves. Harry didn’t have to get so close; he never has to. He doesn’t have to watch Cisco or use Cisco’s workshop or breathe in deeper when he leans over Cisco’s chair. He does.

Cisco rubs his thumb over the underside of Harry’s wrist.

Harry closes his eyes and exhales through his mouth. “Ramon - ”

“You know I want it, Harry.”

Cisco thrums with a thrill when Harry clenches his teeth. It’s enough to embolden Cisco’s other hand to settle on Harry’s hip. He trails it up. Harry’s breathing hard and quick and when Cisco settles his hand over Harry’s chest, he feels Harry’s heart pound.

“What,” Harry tries again, but Cisco doesn’t let him finish. He can’t afford to lose this momentum. It’s so much like the first time, alone with Eobard in the Cortex, speaking his want past all of his nerves while Eobard tried to pretend he didn’t feel the same.

Cisco leans up and in, mouth hovering below Harry’s chin. Harry’s cologne floods his pores and his stomach swoops. He doesn’t smell like Eobard. Instead he’s earthy and dark. Good.

“No one has to know,” Cisco breathes. Harry shudders. “This can stay between me and you.”

Cisco is sure Harry is going to kiss him. Bite him open and pour all of the cruel edged desire into Cisco’s grasping hands, fill him up with fire the way Eobard had.

Harry doesn’t.

Harry pushes him away, quick enough that Cisco’s heart curdles in on itself. Harry’s chest heaves and his hands shake and he stares at Cisco with black eyes.

“Is that what you told him?” Harry asks tightly.

Shame cuts into Cisco’s ribs, making it hard to breathe. No one else knew what he and Eobard did behind closed doors. Cisco doesn’t know how Harry does, but it’s not particularly surprising that he’s dug out Cisco’s darkness. Cisco licks his lip to move past the internal pain. He shrugs.

Harry snatches the gun. Cisco doesn’t watch him leave. Tears burn his peripheral but he ignores them in favor of curling his fingers around the workshop table. That was stupid. That was a waste of time.

He has work to do.

-

Despite the failure of Cisco’s seduction, Harry still watches him. Cisco can feel Harry’s want like a shadow draped heavy across his back.

Cisco tries to mold the attention into something useful. He arches his back when he leans over a desk and makes sure to moan around his morning coffee and has a sucker hanging out of his mouth more often than not. They’re cheap tricks. Desire ebbs away any shame. He doesn’t care if he comes off as desperate, as obscene, as long as he gets Harry’s hands on him in the end.

Harry’s jaw is in a constant state of motion. If he’s not telling Cisco to stop posing or threatening Cisco’s candy stash, he’s clenching his teeth while pretending he’s checking out equipment and not Cisco himself.

Cisco is close to giving up. Harry seems more dedicated to self-denial than Eobard had been and every rejection just drags Cisco further into Eobard’s grave.  Having Wells fingers curl around his hips again isn’t worth cutting himself on Harry’s nonexistent mercy.

Then Grodd takes Joe. Then Harry in the Reverse Flash suit is necessary to saving Joe’s life.

Standing in front of a suited up Harry, who looks like he’d rather peel off his real skin than zip it into yellow leather, Cisco finds it difficult to breathe. The look is good on Harry; it hangs on Harry’s body the same way it hung on Eobard’s stolen one.

Up close, though, watching Harry’s eyes as he speaks Eobard’s words, Cisco is struck by how different the Wells look. Harry’s face seems made of harsher planes and the crinkles around his eyes are thinner. He can’t convey the same disappointment at having to kill Cisco as Eobard had, but he does look honest when saying he’s become fond of Cisco.

Cisco doesn’t want their differences. He wants to know if Harry’s fingers will feel the same inside of him. If Harry can take him to the same special, thrilling place.

When Joe is safe, Cisco watches Harry scramble out of the suit, tearing at the wolf skin like it burns him. Cisco puts it together, finally, how much Harry doesn’t want to be a replacement. He’s probably never played second fiddle to anyone or anything in his life.

Cisco thinks he could get used to putting Harry in second place.

-

Something is going on with Harry. He’s moodier than usual, and more secretive, and Cisco hasn’t felt Harry’s sharp nailed gaze raking over the small of his back or his ass when he leans up or over or down. Cisco tries to explain his suspicions to Barry, but finds he can’t exactly say that he’s concerned because Harry has stopped eye fucking him when he thinks Cisco isn’t looking.

Cisco corners Harry in a lab. Harry is walking out when he’s walking in and Cisco doesn’t give Harry the opportunity to move around him, instead barreling forward, using his quick mouth and words to press Harry against the wall.

“What’s going on with you?”

Harry’s jaw tenses. “Nothing.”

Cisco’s frustration flares. He wants to curl his fingers into Harry’s shirt and shake whatever he’s hiding from his bones. Scream or bite or kiss or fuck it out. Lust slides in and out of Cisco's rage. He brings his palms to Harry’s chest, to push him or pull him closer, Cisco isn’t sure, but Harry knocks his wrists down before he can even try.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Afraid I’ll vibe whatever dirty little secret you’re hiding?” Cisco narrows his eyes and steps closer. He could work his thigh between Harry’s in a breath. He could sink to his knees and swallow all of Harry’s barb wire words.

When Cisco reaches for him again, Harry snaps, viper sharp and fast. Cisco finds himself flipped, back against the wall, the horizon spanning hands of Harrison Wells pinning his wrists by his head.

A whine awakens in Cisco’s throat but he bites his own tongue. His skin sings and sobs at the touch. Just the weight of a body pressed against his own is enough to have his blood boil, his stomach tighten, his dick fill.

It should feel pathetic. It does. But it also feels good, wrong in a way that makes Cisco’s toes curl and cheeks heat.

Harry leans in and Cisco thinks of stolen kisses. Eobard’s hands on him when the rest of their team worked on the accelerator right outside of Cisco’s lab. Biting his own arm to keep from making noise when Barry and Caitlin were within earshot of his moans.

“I told you, Ramon. Don’t vibe me. Don’t touch me. Don’t - ”

Cisco kisses him. He can’t help it. The feeling of being held down by all of that raw, cutting intellect, by all of that strength, is too much. Cisco thinks he might cry at the shock of Harry’s nails sinking into the backs of his hands.

He bites at Harry’s bottom lip, licking at the pink, sucking in the taste of a brand new Wells. Harry makes a hurt, angry noise, animal like, and goes still. Cisco isn’t going to stop until Harry makes him.

Cisco doesn’t know how long it takes for Harry to finally work his stupid tongue into Cisco’s panting mouth, but he does. He groans like he’s breaking under some unseen weight and then spills himself all over Cisco’s greed, Cisco’s need. Cisco drinks in Harry’s bruising kiss.

Harry’s knee presses between his legs. The pressure is sharp and it hurts more than anything but Cisco moans and arches into the touch anyway. He tries to rock into Harry’s sturdy heat but then Harry is moving, digging his knee into Cisco’s thigh instead, holding him still in a sharp pain.

“Harry, you fucker, don’t stop - ”

Cisco tries to squirm out of Harry’s grip, get his hands on Harry, but Harry only tightens his fingers. He slams Cisco’s wrist against the wall when Cisco manages to push against him. Distantly, Cisco thinks he should be afraid. Harry is strong and is glaring down at him like he wants nothing more than to tear Cisco to pieces. Maybe he does.

Cisco stops struggling. He leans his head back, baring more of himself to Harry’s teeth. If Harry wants to rip him apart, Cisco will make it easy on him. Make it so tempting and simple that Harry won’t be able to walk away again.

Harry’s nostrils flare. He licks his bitten red lips. Cisco wants to split them. Feel them again. He needs it.

“Harry,” he breathes, because he’s not above begging. He’s not above telling Harry exactly how much he craves this.

“I’m not him.” Harry speaks like there’s glass in his throat. “Whatever you had with him, whatever - I’m not giving you that.”

Cisco blinks. “That’s your hang up? You think I want to date you?”

Harry takes the words like a punch, turning his head, clenching his jaw. He doesn’t look at Cisco when he says, “I think you want me to be someone I’m not.”

“I know you’re not him,” Cisco says. He waits for Harry to look at him before he continues speaking. “He killed me, Harry. I don’t want you to be him. I just want to touch you.”

He just wants Harry to touch him, really, but that’s not nearly as tempting of an offer. His words are enough to throw Harry off. Cisco slips one hand out of Harry’s grip.

“This,” Cisco says, cupping Harry through his jeans, feeling Harry throb under his palm. “This is all I want from you.”

Harry hisses. He rocks into Cisco’s touch. Cisco thinks Harry might actually get off like this, just letting Cisco palm at him, but then Harry is wrapping his clever fingers around Cisco’s wrist again, stopping him.

Cisco wants to scream.

“If we do this,” Harry pants. Cisco manages to lift his gaze from the bulge in Harry’s jeans to his blown pupils. “We do it my way.”

“Okay,” Cisco soothes. He keeps his tone soft. His words acquiescing. If this is what it takes to cut the strings holding Harry civil, to undo the leash and get Harry’s teeth in his neck, then Cisco can be this. Soft and accepting and taking it however Harry wants to give it. “Whatever you want, Harry.”

Harry’s fingers tighten in Cisco’s skin, but he does press Cisco’s touch harder into his groin. “You remember who you’re with. You don’t expect anything. We stop when I say we stop. And you don’t - this stays between us.”

Cisco barely has time to nod before Harry is on him again.

He lets Harry press him face first into the wall. Lets Harry work his pants down to his knees and spreads as wide he can, embarrassment burning with the ache in his hips. It wasn’t often Eobard did this. Eobard always said he liked to watch Cisco’s face, liked to see him fall apart. It had made Cisco feel special.

This is infinitely more honest.

It feels like fire warmth against cold skin. Cisco doesn’t even mind that Harry’s grip on his wrists has passed the borderline of bruising. Harry holds him still, holds him steady, keeps him together while dragging his dick between Cisco’s shaking thighs. The drag of friction and heat against his body is enough to make him want to scream. He can’t even curse at Harry for not bothering to give a guy a reach around; all he can do is fuck back into Harry’s thrusts and pant.

He doesn’t know if he’d call what he and Eobard did making love, but he’s under no illusions about this. Harry’s skin against his, Harry’s moans against his, is primal. It’s a cut to release the tension and nothing but pain will come from it. Cisco welcomes it.

Harry comes on him. Cisco is floating too high to admonish him for not asking if he could spill on the backs of Cisco’s thighs. When Cisco tilts his head, hoping to catch Harry’s teeth again, he sees Harry staring at his own mess with an expression bordering on awed.

It’s sharp and soft and not at all what Cisco was expecting. It shakes him enough that he can’t speak, even when Harry sinks to his knees and mouths Cisco clean.

Harry’s tongue swipes over him, lapping at come and sweat, and Cisco’s knees to start to shake.

“Been awhile since you had someone on their knees for you?” Harry asks against the swell of his ass. Cisco feels shame and need curl over his skin. Settle inside of him like nails through muscle. “I imagine that wheelchair made things difficult.”

Cisco recognizes it for the cruelty it is. Punishment for making Harry want something so human, maybe, or for making Harry take second place. Cisco flinches but takes the spark of self loathing out on Harry, curling fingers into Harry’s hair and pulling, hard.

“Just meant I had to stay creative.”

Harry glares. He lets Cisco tug at him, though, direct him so he knows where exactly he can put his snarky comments. Cisco drops his cheek against the wall as Harry licks at him.

Harry laps him into a mess, spreading him wide and sloppy, wanton in a way Cisco always was with Eobard but always tried to hide. There’s no point in hiding from Harry. If Harry thinks he’s easy, or a slut, or judges anything he wants, it’s not like Cisco needs to know. It’s not like Cisco cares.

Cisco tries to slide a hand to jerk himself off to the swipes of Harry’s tongue, but Harry bats his hands away. He’s going to whine until Harry’s hands grip his hips, turning him again, and Harry’s mouth gets to work on the head of his dick.

“Yeah.” Cisco moans, gripping Harry by his hair again, pulling him farther. “Like that, yeah.”

He lets his head fall back again. Lets his eyes close. He focuses on how impossibly warm and wet Harry’s normally caustic mouth feels around him. Harry takes him deep, almost all the way, and Cisco can’t help but think about the first time Eobard did this. They’d been at his apartment, and they’d been wet from rain, and Eobard had kissed him from his lips to his collarbone to every rib -

There’s a pinch to his thigh. He opens his eyes to find Harry glowering up at him.

“Eyes open and on me. I don’t want you getting confused about who’s making you feel like this.”

Cisco would say something, at least call Harry a dick, but Harry sucks him down and rubs at his thighs, and all Cisco can say is his name.

-

A few things change after the dam between them breaks.

Cisco starts wearing longer sleeved shirts. Harry has a thing about pinning him to things and doesn’t seem overly concerned with how tightly he holds Cisco’s wrists. Cisco isn’t concerned about it, either.

He stopped favoring wearing his hair up years ago, but he doesn’t rock the low bun at all after Harry starts sucking bruises into the back of his neck.

The drawer next to his bed, which had been pitifully bare save for a half empty bottle of slick and a handful of condoms, gets a refresher. The third time he gets Harry in his sheets, he has enough lube and latex to last them past the inevitable metapocolypse. Harry raises an eyebrow. How much sex do you think we’re going to have, he’d asked. Cisco had gotten Harry on his back.

They’re both sore. All the time. Cisco feels like one walking bruise, one throbbing bite mark. The residual pain from Eobard’s destruction, all of the anger and hurt that he works out into Harry’s skin, always grows back. He’s never empty for long. When the skin around his heart itches or his head aches from dreams, when he feels a scream working its way out of his chest, he tilts his head and gets Harry to hollow him out again.

Cisco doesn’t pretend it’s healthy or helpful or productive. It just feels good, even when it hurts, even when he’s standing in the shower and staring at the skin of a man who lets Harry Wells use him and feels the sting of shame.

Cisco figures he’s earned something that feels good.

-

Cisco usually skips Sunday family dinner. It’s his aunt’s birthday, though, so he throws on an overshirt that will hide the marks on his skin and pretends it doesn’t hurt when no one asks him how he’s been.

His uncle slaps his back in greeting and he winces. He doesn’t think anyone sees until Dante corners him in the kitchen, eyes narrow. Dante manages to pull up his shirt sleeve.

“Those are some nasty bruises hermano.”

Cisco wrestles his arm back. “Don’t pretend you care.”

Dante lets him walk away.

-

They don’t mess around when there are other people in the labs. Both of them are too wary to be caught. Cisco because he knows it will circle back to Eobard, because he knows that with Barry’s and Caitlin’s well meaning doe gazes on him, he won’t be able to hide the truth of what Eobard was to him. Harry because - Cisco doesn’t even know why it’s so important for Harry to keep their fucked up hook up’s a secret, but it is.

Everyone has gone home for the night, though, and when Harry asks Cisco if Eobard ever let Cisco fuck him, Cisco nearly trips over himself. He practically runs to his secret candy stash that now holds strawberry flavored lube, condoms, and some silk ties that he hasn’t shown Harry yet.

Harry gets off on doing whatever Eobard didn’t. Cisco finds himself rolling his eyes about it most of the time; whatever weird egotistical contest Harry has with the man who stole his doppleganger’s face is too much for Cisco’s tired brain, tired heart. He reaps the benefits of it. That’s all the matters.

It’s one of Cisco’s most embarrassing sexual experiences. His hips stutter and he comes too fast, too eager. Harry teases him all the way through it then bends him over the table, spreading him open with one finger for what feels like hours. Cisco isn’t used to Harry being slow, being gentle, even if it is just to be a dick, and he whimpers like it’s the first time he’s getting fucked when Harry slides two slick fingers inside.

“Did he ever take you like this?” Harry pants into his ear. “Or was it always fast? Is that where you got it from, Cisco?”

Cisco wouldn’t answer even if he knew what the answer was. Eobard was never rough. It was never quick, harsh snaps of skin and teeth. It wasn’t this slow, honeyed tease, either. But Harry doesn’t need to know that. Harry doesn’t get that part of him.

“Just give me your dick, you dick.”

Harry laughs. He scrapes his cheek over Cisco’s own and twists his fingers, brushing Cisco where he’s the sorest, where he aches the deepest. Cisco rocks back onto Harry’s touch.

Then Harry pulls away.

“I’m gonna shoot you with your own gun,” Cisco pants. He looks over his shoulder to see Harry smirking, infuriatingly arrogant and handsome in a way that makes Cisco want to ride him stupid. He’s about to suggest Harry find something sturdy to sit on so Cisco can sit on him, actually, when Harry touches his shoulder.

“Turn over.”

Cisco isn’t sure he heard Harry right. They’ve never fucked face to face.

“Why?” Cisco asks, suspicion rising over a painful wave of want.

Harry crosses his arms. The gesture isn’t nearly as intimidating when he’s naked.

“Because it’s what I want. That’s what you said the first time, right? Whatever I want?”

Cisco rolls his eyes. He does it, though, maneuvering until he’s lying with his legs hanging off the table. It’s colder, in this position, and he feels more open and vulnerable than when he lets Harry pulls his hair until tears pop against his eyes. He feels like a slab of skin, existing for Harry to look at and touch and play with.

His head is light but his dick is still aching, full and desperate for whatever Harry will give him. He feels needy. Lying on the table like this should’ve dulled something, he thinks. It hasn’t.

He turns so he can rub his cheek on the cool surface. His skin leeches the crisp chill into his rapidly rising heat.

“Harry,” he says, because the silence is expanding in his lungs and he thinks he may slide onto the floor if Harry doesn’t anchor him.

Harry stretches over him. “Bring your knees up. Hold yourself open.”

Cisco searches, he does, sifts through all the layers of lust and loathing for any part of him that doesn’t want to do this. There’s nothing but aching. Eyes closed, he hooks his hands under his knees, spreading himself on full display for Harry’s hunger.

Harry rewards him by giving him three fingers. In his position, Cisco can do little more than take them.

“Look at me,” Harry tells him. Cisco does.

-

Cisco doesn’t know if it’s the fact that they’ve started looking each other in the eye when they fuck or if it’s the fact that they’ve been working together so much lately they’re speaking in sync, but something changes.

Harry’s as brutal as ever. The way he speaks to Cisco, the way he looks at him, the way he touches him. But there’s an underbelly of softness that’s as unnerving as it is surprising. Harry compliments one of his designs. Harry brings him coffee - accidentally, the barista messed up Harry’s order and gave him another on the house, but still. Harry tells him about Zoom.

When Cisco offers to vibe Jesse, Harry assures him she’s fine. Of course she’s fine, Cisco agrees, but Harry stares at him the entire night. When Cisco asks if Harry wants to go back to his place, Harry says no.

It’s jarring. Usually extended periods of Harry mentally undressing him lead to multiple orgasms and a fresh garden of bruises. All Harry does is touch his shoulder - awkward and tense but oddly gentle, oddly intimate considering they’ve been inside of each other with less care.

Jesse is Harry’s soft spot, Cisco realizes. He makes a mental note not to poke it.

-

It takes a few days before Harry will touch him again. Cisco doesn’t know if it’s thoughts of Jesse or Zoom that have Harry’s head locked in a brood, or if Cisco’s offer to vibe shifted some tectonic plate of their hate banging. Maybe Harry read the kindness as something deeper than platonic decency. It wasn’t.

It wasn’t.

Cisco is going to inform Harry that one nice thing between them didn’t have to ruin their good times, but then Harry’s fists curl into his shirt, dragging him to Harry’s bed, beating Cisco’s mouth to the punch.

Everything is the same. Harry’s nails are still as sharp as Cisco’s tongue. Harry still cradles Cisco’s jaw in a bruising grip, still pushes into Cisco with a growled _look me in the eyes_ , and Cisco still clings to the ghost of Eobard above him.

It’s more difficult to keep the memory of Eobard’s touch on his skin tonight. Cisco can’t pin it down. Something about Harry - how deliberately he fucks Cisco, how deep - jolts Eobard’s taste clear from Cisco’s throat. Harry grunts and pulls Cisco’s hair, hard, harder than Eobard ever did, and Cisco feels himself moaning Harry’s name.

Cisco scrambles to silence it. To remind himself to take what he needs and not just what he’s given. His hand trembles as it reaches for Harry’s own.

“I want something,” Cisco gasps. Harry’s hips stutter. Cisco makes eye contact and brings Harry’s grip to his throat. “He used to do this for me.”

Harry huffs. He stops fucking into Cisco, body tense. “For you,” Harry echoes. His fingers press with the barest pressure. “He wasn’t a fan? Seems like something he’d be into.”

Cisco ignores the disgust - in Harry’s voice, in his own gut. He lengthens his throat so Harry can squeeze more of him. Harry doesn’t move.

“Harder,” Cisco encourages. “You can hurt me.”

Harry’s thumb moves along his pulse. He looks pained, strained, and when he finally speaks it sounds like his throat is shredding.

“I don’t - he might have wanted that, but - ”

Cisco uses his own hand to curl Harry’s grip tighter around his throat. Harry’s head falls forward with a moan.

“He was always too gentle,” Cisco whispers. “You won’t be. You’ll give me what I want. Won’t you, Harry?”

Harry chokes a little himself, but he does it. Tightens his grip, bites Cisco’s slack mouth, and fucks him into an unsteady, cavernous thing. It’s the first time Harry gives him something Eobard never would.

-

Cisco can’t leave his house the next day. His throat is raw from Harry’s hand then from Harry’s dick. Dante calls him, then his mother. He ignores both.

He tells himself it’s just because if he spoke, Dante would know something was wrong. He knows it’s a lie.

-

Eobard comes back.

Cisco has had nightmares about it. Eobard finding his way back into existence and coming back into their lives, putting his hand through Cisco’s heart again. Telling Cisco he’s proud of what Cisco has done with his power. Telling Cisco he’s squandered them. Cisco doesn't know which reaction would hurt more.

But Cisco holds his head and his hands steady. No one asks him how he’s dealing with the man who killed him twice coming back from the dead. Everyone is focused on Barry. Which is good, really, because Cisco doesn’t want them to know that he can barely breathe around all of his rage and fear.

Every time a thought comes, he presses his nails into his palms. He chews on his tongue. He wants Harry to do it for him, but it feels wrong in a way that splits Cisco’s head open. Taking his pain out on Harry, with Harry, when Eobard was dead was one thing. Doing it while Eobard sits under their feet is another sick animal, one that Cisco doesn’t quite have the stomach for.

Cisco doesn’t even know if Harry would add skin to the mindfuck Cisco is experiencing now, anyway. Harry is pissed off. Cisco isn’t sure what about, exactly; if it’s seeing Eobard without his Wells suit on or the fact that he had a Wells suit in the first place.

It’s not exactly surprising, the anger, but Harry’s reaction to it shocks Cisco’s already buzz fried nerves. Harry practically follows him at the heels, hovers near him any time someone mentions Eobard, grab his fingers when he tries to sneak away to taunt Eobard in his cell.

“I think I’ve earned a little payback,” Cisco hisses, pulling away.

Harry slams him into the hall wall. Everyone is gathered in the main lab but anyone could walk out, see them. Harry doesn’t seem to care.

“Don’t you get it? Anything you tell him now helps him in the future. Whatever you give him, he uses.”

“Then I’d be messing up the timeline if I don’t go tell him that I hope he rots in there,” Cisco argues. He pushes Harry’s chest. “Move.”

Harry doesn’t budge. “Are you still that desperate for his approval? He killed you, Ramon. Do I need to spell out for you how sick it is that you need him to pat your head for catching him?”

“Shut up,” Cisco says. Pain curls his fingers into fists. He doesn’t know if he wants to put them through Eobard’s face or Harry’s face or maybe his own. His cheeks burn with shame.

“I know you’re not that stupid,” Harry hisses, right in Cisco’s face. There’s something frantic ramping up his anger. Cisco can’t look at him. When he turns his head, Harry laughs, dark and low and mean. “This is ridiculous, Ramon. You’re too - ”

Rage propels Cisco’s body forward. He slaps both palms on Harry’s chest, knocking him off balance. Harry stumbles back.

“So what? Why do you even care?” Cisco jabs a finger over his heart. “You don’t like me, remember? And it’s not like you’re not reaping all the benefits of what a sick little loser I am. So what do you have to complain about?”

Harry pushes him back. “Maybe I just hate seeing how pathetic you are. Maybe I just can’t stand how - how weak - ”

Cisco really is going to punch him. His fist is raised and Harry looks primed to take it.

Then Barry steps into the hallway.

“Cisco!”

Barry is on him before Cisco can blink. Cisco can’t take the touch of speedster hands on his shoulders and shimmies out of the touch. Unlike Harry, Barry lets him go.

“Dude. What’s - ”

“Ramon was just about to make a little trip to visit your old friend Thawne.”

“You narc.”

Barry blinks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Cisco.”

Harry throws up his hands. “That’s what I told him. But maybe he’ll listen to you.” Harry glares at both of them before moving past Cisco, shouldering him back. “You two are closer than we are, after all.”

When Harry disappears around the corner, Barry blinks.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Cisco mutters, digging his nails into his skin again. “It wasn’t anything. Don’t worry about it.”

-

Cisco thought almost fading out of existence would be more profound.

It’s really not.

He doesn’t see God, or any bright lights, and he doesn’t come back into solid skin with a sudden clarity. He just feels tired. And very, very hungry.

When Harry refuses to even get him a triple triple, Cisco doesn’t know what it means. If Harry is breaking the broken thing between them, if Harry is still angry, if it’s just Tuesday and Harry is being Harry.

It’s less confusing than when Harry actually does bring him a triple triple, plus his favorite milkshake. Harry dumps it unceremoniously next to Cisco’s cot. He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth does stutter until Caitlin pops in to check on her favorite patient. Harry leaves with a nod.

“He was worried about you,” Caitlin tells him, checking out his vitals. “Joe said he just, as the kids say, lost the ability to can when you started fading.”

Cisco frowns. “That sounds like fake news.”

Caitlin smiles. “He really was. He was the one who convinced Barry to send Dr. Wells - Eobard back.”

Then Caitlin slides next to him, half snuggling, half distracting him with warmth so she can steal some of his fries. Cisco’s brain tries to compute Harry being worried about him. It tries to understand Barry having to be convinced to save him over stopping Eobard. Cisco tells himself it makes sense; that if it were his parents, he would do the same. He’s not going to be bitter or hurt about it. Barry chose him in the end.

Harry convinced him to.

-

Cisco thinks about going home. About telling Dante that he almost died. About telling his mother. He plays it over in his head, their worry and grief, and feels guilt tug his heart tight when he realizes he wants it. He wants their fear for him. He wants them to mourn his almost loss.

It’s a cruel desire, and it’s petty, and it’s pathetic. But that’s not why he doesn’t tell them.

What if they don’t care. What if they laugh in his face, just like Harry did. He doesn’t think they will, but he can’t predict them.

He returns his mother’s last call and tells her work has been fine. He texts Dante about grabbing a beer. Dante doesn’t text back.

-

It takes time for Cisco to even out. His skin has stopped vibrating and going occasionally see through. His bones feel strong. He’s figured out how to stop himself from examining what it was like to see Eobard again, to see him in his real body, his real smile directed at Cisco despite Cisco’s taunts.

He finds Harry lying on his cot, tablet spread on his legs. The ties are in Cisco’s back pocket.

“Hey Harry.”

Harry doesn’t look up. “If you’ve come for an apology - ”

“I’m not expecting one.” Even if Harry had been wrong, which he hadn’t, Cisco wouldn’t come begging for something Harry couldn’t give. The words still sting, salt in the reopened gaping hole in his chest, but Cisco’s told himself worse things on dark, still nights. “I’m not here to give one, either.”

Harry finally meets his gaze. There’s something wary in the way he moves, as if he isn’t sure what to expect. Cisco can’t comprehend it. Only one thing would bring him to Harry’s commandeered room after a run in with Eobard and death.

“What are you here for, then?”

Cisco crosses the room. He slides his knee onto the cot, ready to straddle Harry’s boney hips, revel in the jut of them. When he tries, though, Harry puts a palm on his belly.

“Wait.” Harry sits straighter. “Just. Wait, stop.”

“Why?” Cisco reaches for Harry’s hands, slips them under his shirt. “It’s been days, Harry. I need it.”

Harry sways. His forehead rests against Cisco’s hip. He looks soft, younger, somehow, when he peers up at Cisco again. “I don’t think your head is in the right place.”

Cisco knows what he means. He thinks Cisco is all wrapped around Eobard.

“You want to know I’m thinking of you,” Cisco whispers, lulling Harry with the gentle tone and easy give that always works. Harry’s fingers press into his skin.

“That’s not - ”

Whatever Harry was going to say dies when Cisco pulls the black silk from his jeans.

“I never let him tie me up.”

Harry takes in the ties. He swallows, hard, and Cisco feels nails scrape his belly. Cisco seizes the point of weakness and settles on Harry’s lap.

“Ramon - ”

Cisco nips at his jaw. “I never let him truss me up however he wanted.” Cisco licks along the shell of Harry’s ear, reveling in Harry’s low moan, in the way Harry’s other hand curls around his hip. “I never let him tie my legs so far apart I couldn’t move.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the words that do it or it’s his mouth, finally moving over Harry’s own, but he finds the crack in Harry’s shoddy armor. Harry sweeps the tablet away then flips Cisco underneath him.

Harry gets him naked without removing a stitch of his own clothing. The almost familiar warmth of humiliation washes over Cisco, pleasant and from the inside out. He lets Harry roll him onto his stomach.

Part of him wishes he could see as Harry fixes one tie to his wrist then loops the other end around his ankle. He likes watching Harry’s fingers work. The other part of him is grateful to just be able to feel it, soak it all in, let Harry’s shark toothed want and desperation scrape him clean of anything else.

Once Harry repeats the movements on Cisco’s left side, Cisco tugs experimentally. His legs can only close as much as he can brings his arms in, which isn’t far; the natural spread of his wrists pulls him open. He’s vulnerable and exposed to Harry’s non-existent mercy. He could probably get off just like this, rutting against rough sheets while Harry watches with half lidded eyes.

“Maybe I should just keep you like this,” Harry says, running his nails down Cisco’s spine. “This is your favorite place to be, right? Spread out for me? Would you even try to fight me if I never let you go?”

Eventually, Cisco thinks, but no embarrassment comes. There’s nothing wrong with catching fire at Harry’s words in the moment. It’s all fantasy. It’s all pretend.

He can hear Harry unbuttoning his pants, pulling himself from his briefs. Cisco’s fingers scrape at the pillows. Harry’s not even getting undressed. He’s just going to pull himself out, casual and bored, like fucking Cisco is such a habit there’s no point in even getting undressed for the event. It’s a reminder that Cisco is here to be used, to use. Cisco rubs himself into the mattress.

Harry’s fingers tug his hair, pulling him up until his chin is tilted to the wall and his throat goes tight.

“Maybe I could keep you out of trouble like this.” Harry mouths along his jaw.

Cisco grins into the next sharp pull of Harry’s fingers. “Doubt it,” Cisco rasps.

Harry bites down on his shoulder, hard. Cisco groans.

-

Barry and Caitlin are pulling an all nighter at the lab, but Cisco needs Harry’s stupid smart mouth. He pretends all of his desperation is to show Harry this Earth’s Ghostbusters. They leave the labs together, Team Flash none the wiser.

Weirdly, they do end up watching Ghostbusters. It’s almost like Harry expects it - he goes straight to Cisco’s fridge for a beer then to Cisco’s couch, as if he actually thinks this is what Cisco brought him here for. Cisco chalks it up to Harry being a tease.

He tries to tease back; pretend they’re here for something other than messy, messed up blowjobs. But Harry is better at it than him, throwing in commentary and actually agreeing with Cisco’s assessments. Cisco’s head hurts by the end.

When he climbs onto Harry’s lap, draining the last of Harry’s beer, there’s an odd hesitation in Harry’s fingers. Cisco ignores it and works Harry hot through his jeans.

They end up with Harry’s head lulled on the couch arm, his glasses fallen somewhere, his moans warring with Cisco’s as Cisco takes his mouth in a way he’d never even thought of taking Eobard’s own.

Movie nights become a tradition. All of Cisco’s nights with Harry reflect nights with Eobard back, but the images are blurry and buzzing. Harry’s tastes are more aligned with Cisco’s than Eobard’s had been, which is depressing, and he talks through everything, but he lets Cisco shut him up.

The most disturbing thing about the development is that when Cisco is too tired or his hands are too sore or his brain is stretched toO wide, he almost doesn’t hate having Harry around. He laughs at Harry’s stupid jokes and Harry laughs at his puns. Cisco starts enjoying Harry’s company. Not just Harry’s body, not just Harry’s breath in his ear, not just Harry’s mouth, slurring filth or orders or taking everything Cisco gives him.

Cisco ignores it. He pushes down whatever dumb easy feelings are getting mixed with sex and irritation and a begrudging admiration, drowns all of his softer notions in blue colored memories of Eobard’s hands on him, in him.

-

They wake up together, once.

For the first time since movie nights began, they make it from Cisco’s couch and kitchen table to Cisco’s bed. Harry gets Cisco high off pain before they both pass out in the covers. When Cisco’s eyes open nearly eight full hours later, Wells face fills his vision.

He thinks it’s Eobard, at first. The confusion of just waking up mingles with past vibes in his head. He isn’t sure why his boss would be sleeping next to him until he realizes it’s Harry, not Dr. Wells, not Eobard, with his mouth open against Cisco’s pillow.

It jars Cisco’s heart out of his chest and Cisco’s body out of his bed. He makes breakfast while he tries not to freak out. Harry grumbles out of his bed not long after.

“I like my eggs over easy,” Harry tells him, slumping into a chair. “Do you have coffee?”

“Does this look like a diner? Make your own coffee.” Cisco grabs two eggs anyway. Going through the motions calms his irritation.

Harry cracks his neck. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“You slept on my side,” Cisco mutters, breaking the eggs into the skillet.

“I’ll be sure not to make a habit of it.” Harry grabs his coat and is out the door before Cisco can finish his breakfast.

Dick.

-

Sometimes Cisco makes a mental list of all the ways Eobard and Harry are different. He used to find Harry always fell short; his taste in music and wardrobe and theories were all lacking when compared to Eobard’s. Now Cisco finds himself singing Donna Summers under his breath and asking for Harry’s help with the suit ring.

Then Harry shows them all exactly how much he is like Eobard.

-

“I thought you’d understand,” Harry says. He’s standing in the doorway of Cisco’s workshop, palms slapped on the walls. Cisco can practically feel Harry’s nerves, his deep, frantic desperation, pouring out to fill up Cisco’s vision.

Cisco doesn’t look up from the project he’s pretending to work on. “He said the same thing to me, you know. After he reached into my chest and stopped my heart.”

“I told you I was going to betray you.”

“Oh right, you weren’t screwing Barry and handing all Zoom needs to kill us all over on a silver platter. You were just being real.”

Harry looms in his peripheral. He’s a messy black storm, coming up on Cisco’s side, slamming a palm on Cisco’s table. Cisco doesn’t look at him.

“He’s hurting her,” Harry grits. “He’s - because of me. My daughter is dying because of me. All I wanted to do was buy her some time.”

Cisco drops his goggles. “Using your daughter to make me feel sorry for you? Classy, Harry. If you want pity, go talk to Barry. He’s bought what you’re selling.”

When Cisco tries to stand from his stool, Harry’s grip on his shoulder catches him, holds him still. He’s noticed Harry’s strength before, strained against it and used it for his own, but not like this.

“Let go of me.”

“You did the same for your brother. You of all people should understand why I did why I did. Why I had to.”

Cisco finally pushes Harry’s hand away. “I gave a melodramatic thief in a parka Barry’s name. You gave a psychotic serial killer Barry’s speed. It’s a little different.”

“We did it for family,” Harry says. He moves in front of Cisco, grips Cisco by the arm. He fills Cisco’s vision. Cisco can’t see past him. “We didn’t have choices.”

“You sound exactly like him right now.”

Harry clenches his jaw. “Then this should be working for you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Cisco says, too exhausted to keep arguing. “We could’ve helped you. Barry would’ve given you his speed if that’s what it was going to take. He would have helped you.”

Harry won’t look at him. He’s still holding Cisco in a sharp grip, but he won’t meet Cisco’s eyes.

“I would have helped you,” Cisco whispers.

A sting sinks into his skin. Harry’s fingers are digging into his shoulders. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“Oh fuck off,” Cisco says, rolling his shoulders under Harry’s hands. “You didn’t know if you could trust me? How could you not know that I would want to help you?”

“We’re not exactly.” Harry struggles. “Friends.”

“Well we’re not enemies. And you’re not the only one who wants to defeat Zoom and save your daughter.”

Harry steps away like Cisco’s hit him. Cisco kind of wants to. He brushes past Harry instead.

-

Cisco can’t sleep. He thinks of Dante’s hand turning black under Captain’s Cold gun - the gun Cisco made. He dreams of breaking Dante’s fingers with his own fingers.

He calls Dante the next morning. _I’m sorry_ , he wants to say. _I’m glad I saved you. I made the right choice._

“Do you want to have dinner this weekend?” he asks instead.

Dante pauses on the other end of the phone. “Sure. I can move some stuff around. Are you - is everything okay?”

Cisco thinks of Harry’s hands around his shoulders. On his neck. “Peachy.”

-

The most painful part of learning that Eobard was the Reverse Flash wasn’t Eobard’s hand around his heart. It wasn’t Eobard asking Cisco to forgive him or the wet in Eobard’s eyes, the true disappointment of having to kill Cisco for learning his secret. It was the fact that Eobard had the secret at all.

Cisco could have helped him. Would have. Not destroy Barry, but get home. Away from all of them, years away, where he couldn’t hurt Barry or Caitlin or the city Cisco loves. They would’ve been safe. Cisco would’ve been safe.

Harry’s betrayal stings just as deeply, somehow. Maybe because Harry did warn him and instead of pushing Harry away, Cisco let Harry into his workshop and his bed and his brain. Cisco should have known better than to open for a man with Harrison Wells face and he did it anyway. He welcomed it.

But Cisco is going to survive Harry’s lies. Just like he survived Eobard’s. Harry’s won’t leave any scars, though.

The next day, Cisco finds Harry sitting at a table, not alone but far away enough from the others that he can speak his piece.

“I know I’m a dick to you,” Cisco says softly. “But you’re a dick back. And you should’ve told me.”

“I know.”

Cisco takes a seat next to him. Harry tenses. “I’ll help you rescue your daughter. She’s gonna be okay. But you have to trust me.”

“I know,” Harry repeats. He glances at Cisco, then the others, then away. “I do.”

“Good. Now I’m going to pack for our trip to Earth 2. Do you have any snack requests?”

Harry blinks at him, then smiles. “Black licorice.”

Cisco wrinkles his nose. He gets up to leave, but something tugs him back into his seat. Harry tilts his head.

“I do understand,” Cisco says quietly.

Harry shifts. “Me? Or - ”

“I never understood why he did what he did. But I understand why you did.”

There’s a beat. Harry clearly doesn’t know what to say. Cisco is going to slip away before Harry hurts himself, then Harry shakes his head.

“You were right about one thing. What I did and what you did were different. It wasn’t fair to compare us.”

Cisco doesn’t know how to respond.

-

Earth 2 is a mess.

Aesthetically, Cisco digs the retro vibe. But Caitlin is evil, and Ronnie is evil and dead, and Reverb is evil and dead and creepy. His doppleganger’s words won’t stop echoing in his head. _You could be a God_. Is that the honorable future Eobard had seen for him?

He can’t shake everything he felt when he looked into Reverb’s eyes. There was so much madness and fear and need, dug up from deep in Cisco’s own gut, reflected back at him, and Cisco doesn’t know if he can bury it all again. He tries to focus on saving Barry, and Jesse, and the rest of Harry’s world. Saving himself can wait.

They rescue Jesse. They lose Jay.

-

Caitlin is a mess. Harry insists she’s strong, and Cisco knows she is, but no one can survive the kind of loss Caitlin has had and remain whole.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat when Cisco reveals his fears. “You survived,” Harry says.

Cisco guesses he did.

-

Jesse is not at all what Cisco was expecting. Granted he hasn’t spent a lot of time thinking about her. But she’s a bright bubble of sweetness and intelligence. Her mind is as quick as her smile. She’s funny.

Cisco was especially not expecting the way Harry changed around her. Or maybe just became himself. Either way, the man who calls her by a nickname and smiles with dimples in full force and kisses her on top of the head is not the man who likes to make Cisco’s eyes water around his touch. It’s off putting.

They haven’t touched since Harry revealed he was working with Zoom. There hasn’t been time or space to even attempt it, and Cisco was already so inside out raw that he wasn’t sure if he could stand it. But now, Cisco doesn’t even know if he wants to.

Watching Harry perform human, fatherly functions makes Cisco’s stomach curdle. He sees how gentle Harry’s hands are with Jesse and thinks about the last time he made Harry choke him. It’s different now, not looking at Harry through a haze of hurt and lust, not seeing Harry as a way to work past all the Eobard shaped shards in his heart.

Harry’s not a distraction. Not a straw doll for Cisco to hurl all his want and insults and petty hurt at. He’s a father, a man afraid, but Cisco’s barely treated him as human.

They keep their distance as much as they can. Physically, anyway. They accidentally fall into sync speech and work side by side as Barry pushes himself past his limits. Jesse always tilts her head when she looks at them.

Cisco feels awkward around her. Like he should apologize for using her father as a verbal punching bag and metaphorical sex toy, only he’s pretty sure Harry would kill him for revealing even the most chaste details of their relationship. If she notices Cisco’s hesitation, she doesn’t mention it.

-

Cisco suggests Team Flash get turnt, but he doesn’t slip out to the club with them. His belly is still twisting. He can’t think past Reverb, or Eobard’s future, but the hottest wave of shame is Harry underneath him.

He’s watching satellites play safe in front of him when Harry joins him at the desk. His heart beat speeds. They haven’t been alone since Earth 2.

Harry doesn’t speak for several moments. Cisco thinks he’s going to just sit and watch Cisco watch screens.

“Jesse’s out,” Harry says.

Cisco nods. “Yeah, everyone went out. Needed to blow off some steam.”

“You didn’t go.”

“Someone has to watch out for the city.”

Harry’s fingers push Cisco’s hair to one side of his neck. Cisco bites his lip when Harry leans in, breath hot and heavy.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you.” Harry curls his other hand around Cisco’s throat, thumb pressing against his jaw, angling him to give Harry all the skin he can shred.

“Wait,” Cisco says, pushing his feet on the floor to roll himself away. He blinks into Harry’s blinking face. “I think maybe we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Hook up,” Harry repeats, dead pan.

“It’s nicer than saying have self loathing hate sex,” Cisco says. Harry smiles, crooked and not at all amused.

“I thought you forgave me.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“You’re a dad,” Cisco tells him, frustrated.

Harry’s mouth thins. “You knew that before you threw yourself at me.”

“Only in an abstract way. Not in any sort of tangible sense. I can’t - ” Cisco sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He can’t articulate it. Harry is more than just something to ease and inflame Cisco’s aches. He’s a person, now. Someone Cisco could reasonably call a friend. Someone Cisco could - does - care about. “It’s difficult to objectify you now that I’ve seen you be, you know. Human.”

Cisco stands to leave. He doesn’t think this conversation can get more awkward. He’s not fast enough to out step Harry’s spider leg strides. Before Cisco can leave, Harry has an arm outstretched, blocking Cisco’s exit, and his body pressed hot along Cisco’s spine.

“Harry - ”

Harry wraps a hand around Cisco’s throat and rocks against him. Cisco’s mouth falls open on a pant, shocked, because Harry is hot and hard and rubbing into him with no sense of shame or dignity. Harry’s teeth sink into the soft flesh of his ear.  

“You sure you can’t still get it up for me, Ramon?”

Cisco turns around, knowing he’s only going to feel worse if he kisses Harry’s warm mouth. Tomorrow he’ll wear his self hate around his shoulders, albatross heavy. He can’t keep using Harry just because Harry lets him. It’s not easing anything. It’s only complicating Cisco’s regrets.

“Don’t think about it,” Harry whispers against his lips. “Don’t think.”

“Easy for you to say,” Cisco says, casual in his meanness. He can’t stop thinking. He can’t -

Harry pinches his nipple hard over his shirt. Cisco’s head falls back and Harry swoops in, fast and cruel.

“I’ll hurt you.” Harry digs his nails in, making Cisco hiss, stringing Cisco out on the sharpness. “Whatever you want, Cisco.”

Harry’s playing dirty, the same way Cisco always does. Cisco always thought Harry was weak for giving into a few heavily breathed words. Cisco must be even weaker. He yanks his own shirt over his head before pulling Harry’s teeth to his chest.

As it turns out, Cisco can still sleep with Harry while knowing he’ll feel empty and acidic after the high of doing something wrong fades.

-

Jesse runs away. No one can find her. Cisco offers to vibe her again before Harry quietly admits he knows why Jesse ran. He hesitates when Cisco asks for more, but eventually plays Cisco the message Jesse heard.

Cisco doesn’t smack him on the side of his head for being a lunatic and an idiot. He thinks about it though.

Harry finds Jesse and manages to get himself mistaken for Eobard and kidnapped all in one day. Cisco has to lead the charge and tells himself it will make up for something. Maybe make things more even between them, more fair.

Cisco doesn’t feel much better when they get Harry back to his cot. Jesse comes back, and Harry seems happier to have her than to be alive.

-

Cisco tries not to touch Harry after that. Tries not to insult him and tease him and fuck him too roughly. Tries to be better than the Cisco that’s been chewing him up and spitting him back out.

It’s difficult when Harry fights for his attention. He realizes, consciously, that Harry thinks he needs whatever the fuck they’re doing as much as Cisco had thought he’d needed it. They’re both smart enough to realize they should stop.

Instead they sneak around Jesse and the rest of the team. They make out like they can’t help themselves whenever they can steal the time and suck each other off in the back of the van.

They still bicker. The poison weakens, or they grow immune, and Cisco isn’t sure how to feel when Harry makes him laugh instead of want to pull his hair out.

Cisco doesn’t know what they’re doing. He doesn’t think Harry has any more of an idea than he does.

Then their world is ripped apart. It turns out the handsome speedster they all let into their hearts was the psycho who’d been terrorizing them. They’re all less shell shocked than they should be, but they’re shocked nonetheless. Hurt.

Everything happens so fast and so much, Cisco’s head and heart in a centrifuge of hurt. Zoom takes Wally, takes Barry’s father, Barry’s speed. When Zoom takes Caitlin it feels like one of Cisco’s limbs is being ripped off.

Barry promises they’ll save her, but for the first time, Cisco isn’t sure they will.

-

It’s ironic in a fucked up way that Harry helps him develop his powers. He’s more patient than Cisco expected him to be. More encouraging and helpful. Cisco wonders, just for a moment, if it’s how Eobard would train him.

Harry gives a tight but true smile when Cisco manages to break through the barrier of earths, even if it’s just a little, and Cisco realizes Eobard wouldn’t be like this at all. His training would’ve been for his benefit, not Cisco’s, and every word out of Eobard’s mouth would’ve been a honey lie.

It’s just Cisco and Harry in the room. Cisco takes a break to cradle Harry’s jaw and kiss him.

Harry’s eyes are wide when Cisco pulls away. “What was that for?”

Cisco shrugs. “For being honest with me. Even when you were fucking us all over, you were honest with me.”

Harry looks shaken. A little panic cracks along Cisco’s side. They haven’t so much as got to second base in an empty office since Zoom breached in and wrecked their lives. Maybe they really were done with each other, finally, and Cisco didn’t get the memo.

But Harry must read his panic. “It’s fine, Ramon. I just wasn’t expecting it. You don’t usually - ”

“Yeah,” Cisco says, trying to cut him off before it becomes more awkward. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Cisco nods against the weight in his stomach. His skin feels too tight for his body, suddenly. Feels itchy under Harry’s pool water gaze.

“Do you need a break?” Harry asks.

Cisco shakes his head. They don’t have time for breaks or kisses or whatever feeling is spreading warm from Cisco’s chest through his limbs.

-

There’s no time to sort through the new desire to kiss Harry when he does something helpful, or brilliant, or annoyingly endearing.

He and Dante try to make up their missed dinner date. It spirals into Dante’s doppelganger coming across a breach to cut his head off. It ends with Cisco admitting he’s a meta and more honestly, admitting he misses his big brother. Wants him back in his life.

Rupture doesn’t survive, but Cisco thinks he and Dante just might.

-

They get Caitlin back. Then they have to get Barry’s speed back, have to get Barry back - have to lock Barry in the Cortex.

It feels hopeless. Cisco feels helpless. Harry’s the only one who sees it. _You’re going to be great, Ramon_.

In the end, they defeat Zoom. They save the day.

When Cisco looks at Caitlin, at Wally, at the slump in Barry’s shoulders and Jesse’s twitching fingers, it barely feels like they’ve won. Cisco reminds himself they have and for the first time in months, he lets himself feel safe.

He lets himself think.

Harry said he and Jesse were going to make this earth their home. Cisco hadn’t said anything back. Maybe he should.

-

When Cisco walks into the room Harry and Jesse share, prepared to invite Harry to a movie night where they can fall back into each other, he finds Harry and Jesse packing.

“Hey Cisco,” Jesse says, bright. “We were just thinking of going to grab dinner. Wanna join?”

Cisco forces a smile. “Actually I was hoping to borrow your dad for a minute.”

Harry doesn’t stop packing. Jesse looks between them, trying to read the sudden flare of tension. She nods after a few beats.

“I’m just gonna go find Wally.”

She leaves. Harry keeps shoving black things into his duffel.

“I thought you were staying.”

Harry doesn’t look up. “Jesse’s life isn’t on this Earth. And I can’t send her back alone.”

Rage prickles Cisco’s skin. “Were you going to tell anyone? Or were you just going to bolt in the night?”

“I wasn’t going to bolt.” Harry finally stops packing. There’s a steel rod of tension between his shoulders. Cisco wants to hit it. When Harry turns around, he looks tired. “Ramon.”

“Why did you tell us you were staying? You were supposed to be honest. You were - ”

Harry moves. He reaches out for Cisco and for a moment, Cisco just wants to go. Let Harry pull and push him. Fold himself into Harry’s neck and breathe in his cologne. But Cisco steps away. He’s filled up his empty spaces with another Harrison Wells who just wants to leave. Who just wants to get away from him.

“There’s nothing for me here,” Harry says.

Cisco’s hand curls into a fist. “Really? Nothing? Because saving the city and being a hero and being our friend is nothing. Because whatever we have is nothing.”

Harry looks away. “How can I stay here, Cisco? Jesse wants to go home. She’s my daughter. And there’s so much I messed up on my earth. There’s so much I have to fix.”

“Fine. Good luck. Have a super fun time.”

Cisco turns on his heel, burning. He thought Harry was going to stay. He thought Harry was going to stay with him, pick him and the team and saving the day over a life it didn’t even seem like he wanted. He never thought Eobard would give it all up for him, for Barry and Caitlin and the city, but he thought Harry would. He wanted it and he believed it and he can’t believe he was so stupid.

“Cisco.”

He ignores Harry calling his name. Tries to, at least, until Harry makes a frustrated noise and the sound of objects hitting the floor reaches Cisco’s ears. Cisco turns to see Harry breathing heavy.

“Just say you’re going to miss me.”

Cisco bites his lip. “Is that going to keep you from leaving?”

“I told you,” Harry says, desperate. “I can’t. But if you don’t want this to end, we can figure something out. We can make it work.”

“I don’t really think it works now,” Cisco admits.

Harry doesn’t respond. Probably because he knows Cisco is correct. “You can come visit me. I can come here. We can do this.”

And Harry’s right, but he’s not. The magnetism between them has morphed. They’re not wounded predators, lapping at each other’s blood. They’re something younger and less certain. Cisco had thought they were better.

They’re not.

Cisco leaves.

-

The night before the Wells are supposed to make the trip back to their Earth, Cisco goes bar hopping. He tries to find someone to replace his replacement. But when he finds himself leaning in to a guy with salt and pepper hair and crows feet that crinkle with a smile, he can admit it.

Harry may have smoothed over the scars Eobard left, but no one can fill his still broken spaces like Harry.

Jesse isn’t there when Cisco edges into she and Harry’s space. Harry isn’t asleep.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks.

Cisco doesn’t answer. He fishes two communicators from his pocket, putting them next to Harry’s packed bag.

“So Jesse can talk to Wally when she’s on Earth 2,” Cisco explains. “And you can talk to. Whoever.”

Harry makes room for Cisco on the bed. Cisco takes it. There’s so little space between them and a canyon of things Cisco doesn’t know how to say. He wants to reach for Harry’s hand, settle between Harry’s legs, grind them both into exhaustion, fall asleep with his head on Harry’s chest.

“We can have phone sex,” Cisco says.

Harry cracks a grin. “Or you could breach over and we could do it the old fashioned way.”

“Or you could just not go.”

Cisco knows that’s not an option. He knows it like he knows he shouldn’t call Harry once he leaves and he shouldn’t breach over. The best thing he could do for Harry, for himself, is let Harry go. Learn how to breathe around all the pain of his past without drowning it in Harry.

But the idea of living without Harry’s skin makes his throat close up.

“You’ll visit me,” Harry says, sure. “You could even…”

When Harry trails off, Cisco looks at him. “Could even what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Cisco doesn’t push. “Where’s Jesse?”

“Spending her last night with Wally,” Harry grits.

“Oh man. I’m sure you loved that.” Harry glares. Cisco can’t help but laugh and lean in, nipping at Harry’s jaw. “Want me to distract you?”

Harry pulls Cisco on top of him.

-

Cisco isn’t exactly sure where they stand when Harry and Jesse prep to walk back onto their Earth. Despite the progress they’ve made, the conscious effort not to hurt each other as much as they used to, Cisco doesn’t think clinging to the man who has Eobard’s face is healthy. Harry laying down his throat for whatever Cisco needs isn’t, either. Maybe they’re both still using each other to punish themselves.

Harry hugs him goodbye. Squeezes tight and runs a palm over Cisco’s shoulder like he’s trying to memorize Cisco’s warmth, like he doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll visit you,” Cisco promises.  

“You better,” Jesse says, coming up to take Harry’s hand. “Ready dad?”

“Let’s go home, Quick.”

It aches, watching them walk away. Before they step into the breach, Harry looks over his shoulder, offering a nod in Cisco’s direction.

-

Later, Cisco invites Dante out for a beer. Dante actually pays. Actually listens to the few things Cisco manages to make himself say. It’s still odd, talking to Dante about his powers, his work, his actual life. He mentions Harry a few times. Dante doesn’t ask any questions about him. Cisco wouldn’t know what to say if he did.

His communicator beeps while Dante closes their tab. It’s Harry. Cisco rolls his eyes. The guy couldn’t even last a few hours.

“Girlfriend?” Dante asks when he comes back to see Cisco punching in a message.

“Not really.”

Dante hesitates. Then, “Boyfriend?”

“A bad decision,” Cisco says.

Dante raises his eyebrows. “This bad decision,” Dante says. “Are you going to keep making it?”

Cisco shouldn’t. He knows, even if he and Harry can work side by side and lie against each other without the fangs coming out, that he shouldn’t.

“I think I am.”

Dante grins at him, a little crooked, and Cisco finds himself grinning honestly back.


End file.
